T H E F A M I L Y P R O J E C T
-Did you bring the baby?
-No, I thought you did.
-Well, I didn’t, I thought you brought it.
-Well, I didn’t either, so I guess it’s on its own now then. Do you want me to go and get it?
-I don’t know. It’s kind of nice without it, but we should probably go and get it, it wouldn’t manage very well on its own.
-I suppose so. Maybe we could wait just a little bit, we could have a coffee or something.
-Yeah, sounds like a good idea.
Stuck 2009 – MDF, household paint and castors
Blue Dress 2017 – Oil on paper
Middle class Mothers 2014 – Digital video
Family 1980 2017 – Oil on paper
Demis 2015 – digital video
Portrait of the artist as a baby in her mothers arms (Grorud 1970) – Oil on panel
The parents had told the little girl that if she managed to not eat one single boiled sweet or marshmallow or liquorice or chocolate or any sweet thing at all for one whole year she would get 50 pounds. She did as the parents had said and her friends thought she was being silly and way too obedient. How would the parents know whether she kept her word? they would ask her. She could easily have accepted a piece of chocolate from a friend without the parents having a clue about it. But the little girl kept her word and didn’t touch a single sweet.
At the end of the year she got her 50 pounds and she was incredibly proud and felt like a very honest and good little girl.
Stable relationship 2009 – watercolour and pencil on paper
P O P P E D
She was so fed up with her children
that she popped their balloons.
Together 2009 – plaster cast and household paint
If I hade been taller I could have looked through all the windows 2013 – digital video
I learned how to ride a bike at four and soon believed I was a master. I rode very fast, particularly down the small slopes in our neighbourhood. I would constantly fall off and get big open wounds on my knees. Wounds that would get sand and dirt and ants in them. I would never cry when it happened, but I would look around to see if anyone had seen me falling. Then I would cycle back home. And when entering our house my tears would pop out even just by the scent of my mother. Having noticed I was back home she would smile at me from the other side of the living room. I would run towards her, tears pouring down my cheeks and I would hide in her embrace, sobbing. As if the pain was a lot deeper than a wound on the knee.